


In His Life

by the17thtearoom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 08:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the17thtearoom/pseuds/the17thtearoom
Summary: Dudley Dursley learns quite a lot.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	In His Life

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago and posted it to my now defunct FFN account. I decided to give it a new sheen of coat and reupload it here.
> 
> [Find me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/VeryLucyJane)

Dudley Dursley had always been a fairly rowdy boy.

From the tender age of two months he had it figured out that maximum tantrums equaled maximum attention, and this was something he would use to its' full potential. It was always the same. He screamed; his mother in turn fussed, and his father patted his head, smiling proudly.

"That's m'boy," Vernon chuckled. "Here's a young man who knows what he wants!"

And Vernon was right. What more would a young child wish for, than love and attention from the people who cared for him?

This was when Dudley learned that causing a ruckus got him the attention he craved.

* * *

Things changed after not too long however, when another baby arrived. Dudley didn't know who this baby was or where he had come from, but he did know that his two idols, his wonderful parents, clearly disliked him a lot, and so Dudley responded in kind, and took to poking and prodding the black haired child at every given opportunity, to interesting results.

While the baby, whose name Dudley didn't know, would snivel and cry, his mother would merely shush the boy and then fuss over Dudley even more, apologising for "the nasty boy" upsetting him. His father would respond in a similar manner, often taking Dudley for ice cream if he thought he was upset enough. This made Dudley feel _good_.

And so he learned that hurting the black haired boy earned him extra attention, and sometimes ice cream.

* * *

Several years passed without much change. Dudley's waistline increased at the same rate as that of his father's, while his mother's waistline seemed to steadily shrink, as did that of the black haired boy's, whose name, Dudley eventually discovered, was Harry.

Dudley was a popular boy in school. He and his gang of friends ruled the playground all the way through primary, and he soon realised that the more thuggishly he behaved, the more the other students did what he told them to. None of the teachers did anything to stop him - because what _could_ they do? - and if anything his parents just chuckled at his actions. His dad would just ruffle his hair if he got into a fight, proudly proclaiming, "That's my boy!"

Harry wasn't nearly as popular. Dudley didn't want any of the kids in school associating the two of them any more than they already did, so anyone who attempted to make contact with the tiny runt was dealt with. He never lost sleep over it; his parents were so repulsed by the boy that Dudley didn't give it a second thought. But there were moments when he asked himself, late at night, "What if dad stopped ruffling _my_ hair and buying me cool presents?" What if they started treating _him_ like they treated _Harry?_ No, he couldn't allow that to happen, absolutely not.

And so Dudley learned that keeping the boy isolated was the best way to keep himself on top.

* * *

Things changed again when he was eleven, this time significantly more so. After a terrifying incident on his birthday, when he was _attacked by a snake_ at the zoo - one that sparked off months of nightmares and a fear of snakes that would last for the rest of his life - Harry started getting letters. Strange letters. Scary letters.

Or at least, he assumed they were strange and scary, when he looked at his parents' reactions to the first one that arrived. His dad's face turned an very _odd_ colour, one Dudley hadn't seen on him before, and his hands began shaking, while his mum looked ready to faint as she took in the writing on the front of the envelope. He had never seen his parents react to something in this way before. Never. He had to know what that letter was about.

However, his attempts to find out turned into alarming failures. His parents hadn't let him look.

 _They had said no_.

They had _never_ said _no_ before, at least not to _him,_ and he didn't know what to do. So he did whatever he did when other people said no to him, and threw a tantrum. He screamed, he shouted, he hit his dad and Harry with his brand new Smeltings stick, and it did _nothing_ to help. _He was sent to his room for it._

This was _new_. This was _different_. Very different, and Dudley didn't know much, but he knew he didn't like it. This was a bad sign.

Harry himself was as close to being rewarded as Dudley had ever seen, just because the stupid envelope "had his cupboard on it". He had been given Dudley's second bedroom, and then Dudley was _furious_.

He _needed_ that room. Where else was he supposed to keep all his broken toys and unwanted birthday presents? Harry already had a place to sleep, he didn't need one of _his_ rooms. But again, all the tantrums in the world did nothing to change his parents' minds, even when he threw his _stupid_ tortoise out of the _stupid_ window.

Whatever was in that letter was related to Harry, and as Dudley saw it that letter was ruining his life, so this meant that he was no longer just a nuisance, he was also a _problem_.

And so Dudley learned that Harry Potter wasn't his cousin, he was his enemy.

* * *

From here on out, Dudley's life only went further down the drain. He was dragged from his home when it was invaded by those terrible life-ruining letters, making him miss _all_ his favourite TV shows and the birthday party of his crush, Amanda Sprigg, who would refuse to talk to him once he finally returned home.

Before this could happen however, his life would first change forever, because his dad, his father, the biggest idol in his life (both literally and figuratively) would snap. Dragged to a miserable hut on a _stinking_ rock in the middle of the _stupid_ ocean, Dudley truly believed his dad's mind had slipped. Muttering to himself and shouting sporadically, driving like a maniac, he seemed insane. Even his mum seemed to be more scared of her husband than she was of the unstable old hut. The _letters_ had done this. The letters related to _Potter_.

Well, Dudley had known for sure who would be taking the water damaged sofa that night, and who would be left with the sandy, cold floor. This had made him feel slightly better. Slightly.

But then this too was rendered moot, because what happened not long after he settled down on the lumpy, hole-ridden sofa, made him forget his TV shows and lovely Amanda Sprigg's birthday entirely. In fact, it made him forget much of what he knew (which wasn't much to begin with), other than to run and hide behind his dad for safety, which was no longer such an easy feat.

This was because, to put it simply, a giant broke down the front door. Yes, indeed a giant.

The towering, lumbering man took up almost half of the pathetic hut on his own, his face large and terrifying and _dangerous_ , and Dudley quivered with terror at the mere sight of him.

After several seconds, the giant reached down - Dudley flinched violently - only for him to... put the door back in its place. Oh. Had Dudley not been disassociating from his current reality, this might have helped him calm down a mite. The giant asked for Potter, looked straight at Dudley with black, watchful eyes, before turning to the boy in question, his face breaking out into a wide, frightening smile.

"Lily and James Potter, _dying in a car crash? It's an OUTRAGE!"_

The noise reverberated against the walls as the giant ranted on about Potter's parents, raged at _his_ parents for lying about their deaths - which couldn't be true, because his parents didn't lie, did they? - and then, he presented Potter with a cake.

A nice, big, chocolatey cake that looked ten times more delicious than it usually would because of Dudley's stomach, which growled sharply at the sight of the treat.

It looked good. So, _so_ good. He tuned out from whatever was being talked about and edged towards the cake. He was so, so _hungry_ , and cold and tired too. He deserved some compensation for all the recent emotional upheaval, didn't he? His dad had been talking about suing the letter writers for emotional damages; he could get in on that.

Harry never got cake anyway, so he would hardly miss it…

What followed this last, unfortunate thought was easily the most traumatic thing that would ever happen to him.Worse than breaking his arm when he was six. _Worse_ than his school telling him he would need custom uniforms because none of the regular ones fit him. Worse _still,_ than the dreaded snake incident from only a few weeks before.

As he reached towards the chocolate cake, eyes glazing over, he vaguely registered the sound of the giant roaring and then a second later, terrible, searing pain as something sprouted - no word of a lie, _sprouted -_ from his behind. Squealing in shock, he shot up straight as his mother's screams mingled with his father's returning roar, and reached around (with some difficulty) to see what the hell had just happened to him, and what he found almost made him faint.

There was a -

_There was a tail._

There was a tail _attached to him._ No, not even attached, but _growing from him_. The giant had shot him with his weird magic stuff and given him a _pig's tail_. He felt dizzy and noticed that his mother had taken him by the shoulders and was shaking him violently and _crying,_ and that his father was shouting words at him, none of which he could comprehend.

He was shot through with pain and his knees were giving out, but as his breathing grew thin and he was dragged bodily from the room, he absently noted the terrifying giant - the giant who was here because of _Potter_ \- laughing at him.

That was the night that Dudley learned that magic was something to be feared, because _magic caused pain_.

* * *

Yes, magic caused pain, and trips to specialised hospitals and worlds of _other_ pains that he never imagined could exist, one of which being Potter disappearing with the violent giant for a whole day and reappearing again later, looking happier than Dudley had ever seen him. Potter was magic, and had just visited a place _with_ magic and returned _happy_. Harry Potter wasn't just his enemy, he was a _dangerous_ enemy.

Dudley learned that if he was to stay safe in his own house he would have to be on the defence from now on, because Potter was going off to learn magic for a whole year. If he was to ever sleep soundly in his own bed again, Potter had to know that just because he had that _freaky_ magic stuff, didn't mean he was suddenly better than Dudley was.

It would be years before anything happened to change his opinion.

The year after the tail incident, something that gave him nightmares each night for months after, his cousin escaped from Privet Drive in a _flying car_ at midnight - which given any other situation he would possibly, _possibly_ find _slightly_ cool - and the year following that, his Aunt was turned into a human balloon by Potter, not that she wasn't already close, but still. He watched her bounce her way out of the house and into the grey sky, and tried not to break into a cold sweat.

The incident that took place one year later renewed his fear of magic yet again, because when Potter announced that he would be leaving for the rest of that miserable, dieting summer, magic attacked him _again_. His living room was blown apart, his home was _invaded,_ and one of those gangling, red headed _weirdos_ attacked him.

It looked like a toffee, and tasted like one too. A fucking _toffee_ , so how the fuck was he supposed to know what it was going to do to him? He didn't remember much of what happened following him eating the stray sweet.

He remembered his tongue _swelling_. He remembered the slow, creeping struggling to breathe and his heart hammering as the thought settled into his mind that he must be _dying_ , and oh _God_ what was he going to do because he couldn't call out for help and his vision was beginning to cloud over and no one was noticing that he _couldn't fucking breathe_ and then he was choking and _finally_ he heard him mother's screams and there was shouting -

So much _shouting_. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor and there was a flash of _green flame_ and the sound of plates smashing against the wall making his ears ring and was his mum _trying to pull his tongue from his fucking mouth_ -

Then there was nothing.

His tongue was no longer swelling, but receding back into his mouth and he was shaking harder than he had since the night of the giant and the _tail,_ and he felt as though he was going to throw up as he sucked in desperate breaths. He heard the red-headed man speaking, his tone apologetic, but he couldn't hear the words, too busy concentrating on keeping his measly lunch down.

The nightmares had lasted almost a year after that, and now dreams of pigtails and chocolate cakes were joined by dreams of toffees that would have him jolting upright in his bed in the middle of the night, sweating with terror.

 _(Well_ , at least the nightmares put him off his snacking.)

Yes, it would be another year or so after the horror of the toffee until he saw magic as anything less than something from a horror movie, and even then his opinion would not change much.

* * *

In the midst of what must have surely been his death, at the hands of magic that was just as terrible as he always knew it would be, his enemy, his cousin...

Had saved him, _with magic_.

There had been dread. More dread than ever before. More than he had when he was eleven and he had gazed up at that terrifying giant of a man who Potter liked so much. More so than when his Aunt had inflated right before his eyes, skin stretching and eyes bulging from her skull. More so even than when he had gazed, quivering, at the identical twins who blasted into his living room and took him in with scheming, cruel eyes.

Images appeared in his mind's eye as a force he could not see, only feel, took hold of him, and there was _nothing_ good left in the world, nothing left _living for_ and tears leaked from his eyes as his mind was cast forcibly back to his worst memory, on the day that first damned letter had arrived, addressed to _Potter_. The letter than had ruined his life forever, because it had shown him things he knew were the truth but didn't want to acknowledge.

_His father had been pathetic, hadn't he?_

Dudley was begging for death, waiting for the pain, the agonising truth, to just _stop_ and for _everything_ to stop because _nothing_ could be worse than this -

He dropped heavily to the floor of the tunnel, a bright light dazzling him as the dread seemed to vanish, replaced by sickness, dizziness, a creeping horror, because _oh shit,_ magic had got him _again_.

But what had _helped_ him?

Dudley was barely conscious, but he saw his cousin stood with his - his magic thing out, pointed into the air. Had - had Potter done that to him? That strange, blinding light was still dazzling him, but that had got rid of whatever was hurting him, right? So what had -

What had happened?

He didn't remember anything that happened afterwards. Potter dragged him home, and he had been sick, he knew that. His mother had screamed - _again_. She did that a lot, really. His father had been shouting out in anger and fear - _again_. When asked what had happened, he had pointed to his cousin, because there was no other explanation. He had been around magic _again_ , been hurt _again_. When did he ever end up near magic and _not_ get hurt? Yes, Harry Potter was the only explanation.

But then, Potter seemed to have made the thing, feeling, _whatever it was,_ go away. So Potter had… saved him? With magic?

Time would pass and he would slowly stew over that night, and many other nights that had preceded it, and slowly, ever so slowly, Dudley came to think that while magic was still bad, maybe _Potter_ wasn't.

Maybe Potter was just his cousin.

And then came the day he had to leave the only home he had ever known, because magic was trying to get its insidious claws into him again, but this time he understood that his cousin was trying to keep him safe, however involved he was. His parents didn't seem to understand, but he had begun to think that maybe they _weren't_ always right after all.

_His father really had looked pathetic on that day, hadn't he?_

When he and Harry Potter parted ways, possibly for the last time - as he knew his cousin was in danger - Dudley hesitated, before offering him his hand.

"I don't think you're a waste of space," he mumbled, and Potter's eyes bugged out behind his stupid round glasses for a moment, before he nodded, and took Dudley's hand in his own.

His cousin had saved his life that night. He could be saving it again by sending him away from Privet Drive, for all they knew.

This was when Dudley Dursley learned that Harry Potter was not his enemy, whether magic was or not, and maybe when this - this _Wizard war_ was over, he would find his cousin again, and they would go for a pint in the pub.

But a normal one, not a magic one.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts, comments and kudos, are appreciated <3


End file.
